In the Shadow of the Throne
by Ramzes
Summary: Son, brother and uncle, a revered Hand and a mistrusted King, Viserys II spent his entire life in the shadow of the throne.
1. Getting Ready for the Dance

**A warning: this is not a Dance of Dragons fic. It will have parts of this but it's focused on Viserys II and the pivotal moments in his life, so there will be leaps in time.**

**In the Shadow of the Throne**

_Getting Ready for the Dance_

Technically, he was born in 123 AL. He knew his birth had been heralded and rejoiced in, that they had placed a dragon egg in his cradle, that everyone had come to know that the future queen had secured the Targaryen line once more. Still, he felt that his real life might have started when he was about six-year-old and queer things started to happen. It all began when his grandfather died and wouldn't come back, no matter how much Viserys begged and prodded him, and told him it was no longer funny. Behind him, his mother gasped with horror and shame and yanked him off, the rings on her fingers cutting into him painfully. Behind them, the court started talking. "My lord grandfather doesn't want to come back," Viserys tried to explain.

Rhaenyra's face was contorted in something he recognized as fury. "How dare you shame me so!" she hissed in a low voice. "What a disgraceful child you are! Your grandfather can't come back, Viserys. He's _dead_."

It was hardly the first time he heard that but it made no sense. When he and Aegon played at fighters, they killed each other and they came back each time. Why wouldn't his jovial grandfather he was so fond of do the same?

"The child's manners could use some improvement," a familiar voice said but Viserys couldn't remember whose it was. His mother looked up and her face went colder.

"When you have a son, dear brother," she spat, 'raise him as you would, by any means. But don't you dare tell me how to raise mine."

Young Aegon smiled a smile that Viserys did not like at all. He gave Rhaenyra a bow and went off. Viserys frowned – his uncle's bow had not been as deep as everyone else's was these days. By his mother's clenched jaw, he knew that she, too, had noticed.

A few days later, he heard the women in his mother's household whispering that there was a "rift" in the Small Council, that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was rumoured to make some preparations of his own.

"He is a spurned man," they said, "and Her Grace should have known that he was never the one to take rejection lightly. Now, the crown on her head might depend on her ability to convince him to forgive the insult given."

And then one of them hissed, "Hush! The child, the little one, he's listening!"

They all fell silent as they saw him only a few steps from them, a little shadow in the alcove, all ears and attention.

A few days later, he was shaken awake quite roughly. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was still night. His half-brother Aemon loomed over him, the light of the single candle intensifying the purple in his eyes and making his hair more dark auburn. Viserys hadn't seen him in months and was about to throw himself at him when Aemon unceremoniously dragged him out of bed. "Where are your clothes?" he asked and at his tight, controlled voice Viserys felt terrified.

"Where are they?" Aemon asked, then looked around impatiently and wrapped Viserys in the first cloak he saw lying around, probably one of the servants.

"Aemon, what's…"

"Hush!" Aemon said. "Don't make a sound, Viserys. Whatever you see, don't make a sound. I'm taking you to Mother… but you must be quiet. Don't be afraid. I'm holding you. You're safe with me. Do you understand?" he added as he carried the boy, half-running down the hall.

In the dim light, Viserys' pale purple eyes shone with fear. He nodded empathically but said nothing. Aemon nodded, pleased. "That's a good boy. Remember, there is nothing to fear."

But there was. Viserys just didn't know what it was. Aemon carried him down a big staircase; Viserys lifted the edge of the cloak just enough to look around. Knights, lords, ladies and handmaidens, the members of his household, the members of his mother's household – they were all descending the stairs in a run. In their arms, they carried bags, boxes, and caskets. Many of the women were weeping but silently.

"Hurry up!" someone prompted but softly. Viserys recognized Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard. Why did he look so sad? Why was everyone so scared? He opened his mouth to ask, then remembered Aemon's order and closed it again.

Suddenly, Ser Arryk was now next to them, holding his hands out. "I'll take the boy, Your Grace," he said.

Viserys shook his head against his brother and clung to him. "He stays with me," Aemon said, although his arms must be aching now. Viserys was such a big boy now. Everyone said so.

"Her Grace ordered that we meet her as soon as possible," the white knight said.

"I know," Aemon whispered back. "I'm coming from her."

Were they all going to see his mother? But that was not the way for the throne room.

Soon, they were out of the protective shadow of the Red Keep. The pale moon cast a shimmering veil over them, a few clouds obscured their vision. Viserys was now cold but he knew that if he said that, there was nothing Aemon could do.

His brother was anxious to get as far away as possible. Pale-faced stable hands brought them horses and Aemon threw Viserys on one of them and jumped behind him. Something was queer there – the hooves of so many horses made no noise at all. And they were headed for a smaller gate and not the barbican.

When they were out, Aemon sighed and urged his horse forward, in a different direction to what the others were taking. Ser Arryk, a few other knights, and Rhaenyra's closest attendants followed.

Suddenly, the stallion came to a halt. Aemon looked back, at the castle they had just… fled? Viserys couldn't comprehend it. Targaryens did not flee, yet that was what they had done. With Mother's knowledge.

Aemon's dark, handsome face twisted in fury Viserys had never known before. He clenched his fist and shook it at the Red Keep, at someone Viserys did not know. "We'll be back," he vowed. "We'll be back and you'll pay, traitor. You will pay with all you have."

Without adding a word, he spurred the horse. It was hard to see ion the darkness, but the road soon started climbing and by the smell greeting them, Viserys knew they were going for the Dragonpit. As always, his excitement grew.

Rhaenyra stood in front of her Syrax' cell. Her attire was in disarray, her hair singed – the dragons were obviously uneasy with so many visitors they didn't know at once and puffed smoke incessantly despite being constantly ordered not to. This was the first time Viserys saw his mother without any jewels but her rings. Her ladies surrounded her and Ser Marel of the Kingsguard was looking around vigilantly, his sword ready. Aegon stood slightly aside with a few knights. Aemon released Viserys and the boy ran to Aegon while Aemon went for their mother and they started talking in urgent voices.

"What happened?" Viserys asked.

His brother looked distraught. Did he understand what was happening? He looked to know more than Viserys. "Uncle Aegon falsified our lord grandfather's will," Aegon said, leaving Viserys stunned with so many words he didn't know. "He'll be proclaimed King first thing in the morning. He stole Mother's crown."

"Oh." Viserys looked at his mother. There was no crown on her head or in her hands, for sure.

"We're leaving," Rhaenyra said. Her castellan, Ser Tollas Whitewood, was now beside her. Her eldest son was standing before the stall of his own dragon. "We'll fight him on the battlefield. But right now, we stand no chance. We'll gather our forces and push the usurper from his stolen throne. But now, we must go."

"Harrenhall is our best bet, Your Grace," Ser Tollas agreed. "And we must leave immediately, your sons and yourselves before everyone else."

"Are we running away?" Viserys asked and Aegon stepped on his foot to make him shut up before Mother could hear him.

"With the dragons, no one can stip us," Rhaenyra said.

"No one but other dragons," Aemon agreed. "Lady Mother, I think it'll be better if we part ways here, so we throw them in confusion as to where they should follow."

"No!"Rhaenyra said sharply. Ser Arryk started talking to her in low voice and Aemon went past them, to the cell where his own Ikarras was sheltered. At his approach, the blue and red dragon gave a low whine, much like a dog, although this one had a rumbling edge that made the floor vibrate.

"Well, Viserys?" Aemon asked. "Do you want to come with me for a ride?"

His voice was cheerful but his eyes were still deep, and dark, and full of fury, just like their mother's. Viserys nodded, although this Aemon, he did not know. But he loved riding dragons and could not wait to become old enough to have one of his own.

"It's bad enough that I have to flee," Rhaenyra spat. "But if we separate, we'll be more vulnerable."

"You'll be vulnerable everywhere now, no matter what," her son Aegyl said. "We will all be now that Aegon made his bid for the throne. And it's better to have them uncertain as to where we went… they won't think we parted ways."

There was something else that he was not telling her, yet Rhaenyra seemed to understand. She angrily rubbed the tracks of dried tears lining her cheeks and nodded. "I'll be a mother of kings," she proclaimed. "That's what that fire witch said. I'll be a mother of kings, and Aegon won't win."

She headed for her younger sons and looked at them sternly. "It's hard time for us now," she said. "We must separate. Aegon, you're coming with me. Viserys, you're leaving with Aemon. Don't make nuisance of yourself and do what he says, otherwise there will be punishment worse than whatever you can imagine. I'll see you at Harrenhall."

Viserys nodded and decided that he didn't have anything to say at all when everyone was so anxious.

Their entourage left the dragonpit. Rhaenyra and her sons remained. Aegyl opened the doors of the stalls one by one and the pit was soon full of smoke, dust, and roars as the dragons were geared for flight.

In the vast courtyard, Aegyl knelt before their mother. She placed her hand on his head for blessing. Aemon and Viserys followed and the boy felt that his mother's fingers were shaking.

"Keep him safe," she said in low voice. "And stay safe yourself."

"I will, Lady Mother," Aemon replied in the same tone. "You can trust me."

They were already high in the sky, with the moon in their reach and the cold wind in their hairs when the first shouts came.


	2. Fury of the Dance

Thanks to Oberon Sexton and Ink of Many Shades for reviewing. You keep me inspired.

**In the Shadow of the Throne**

_Fury of the Dance_

The shadows of twilight were creeping upon them. The wind carried into the hall the smell of the cooking meals that would soon be served. Rhaenyra looked up, listening at something that only she could hear. She had an open book on her lap and stared at it resolutely but Viserys had noticed that she hadn't turned a page for a very long time. During the day, she was her usual imperious self, busy and commanding but it seemed to Viserys that as soon as the sky started darkening, she would start listening to some voices no one else could hear.

"Do you think they have reached Great Sword already?" Aegon asked him, his eyes shining with excitement. "The dragons are so fast. They must have. They might have won already!"

Viserys grinned. "Yes. And Ikarras is the fiercest dragon alive. Everyone says so. He'll kill Vhagar in no time at all!"

"Hush, children," the old maester at-arms Ser Edwar scolded them. "Her Grace wouldn't want to hear such talks."

"No one does," Viserys complained. Not that there were so many warriors left at Harrenhall, anyway – every man able to fight had left with his older brothers. Now, it was only his lady mother and her attendants here, and some other ladies. Lots of other ladies. They didn't understand. They only prayed and whispered, and were scared of war. Viserys knew their army would crush his uncle's and restore his mother to her throne but they seemed to doubt it, always afraid that they might become widows soon. And several of them had sons at the battlefield, as well. Servants and retainers had become infected with the highborn's unease.

In all, their life was quite a hushed one. Maesters, septons, training in the yard, sitting in the great hall – that was the two princes' routine. Harrenhall was big but there were only as many times as they could roam through its halls. And they weren't allowed to explore the ruins – it was considered too dangerous. They weren't allowed to leave the walls for a ride – that had been proclaimed even more dangerous. As a result, they had become almost as restless as their mother.

A huge shadow fell over the hearth. Some dogs that had been dozing around howled in distress.

Before the boys could understand what was going on, a few women had already rushed for the embrasures. Rhaenyra's book fell on the carpet and she rose slowly. She had paled visibly, stricken by a new fear. "It's too early," one of the ladies cried.

The door opened and the castellan of Harrenhall came in and bowed. "We won!" he blurted then, completely forgotten about his dignity. His face was beaming. "We won at Great Sword, my lady! The first men came back with the dragons and they say…"

Rhaenyra laughed and her face lit up. Viserys had forgotten how beautiful his mother could be when she smiled. The women crowded around the castellan, excited and anxious, asking about their husbands. He raised his hands and defended himself by this general assault claiming that he knew nothing – he had come to tell the Queen the news of the victory as soon as he had been told himself.

Rhaenyra laughed again and came to her sons, spun them around, hugged them impulsively. "Finally!" she cried out. "The usurper now knows that I am not to be trifled with. He'll be cursing the day his mother wed my lord father, I swear it!"

The dragon shadow had moved from the hearth. Rhaenyra left the hall in a hurry, headed for the huge bailey where more knights and men-at-arms were arriving on dragonback. Viserys liked it better when dragons were used for fighting but he had to admit that they did make good… wheelhouses.

By now, everyone at Harrenhall seemed to have heard. Everyone was running to the bailey. Everyone was laughing and talking excitedly. The twilight was chased away by tens of torches that bathed the arriving dragons in light, giving their various colours deeper hues.

"That's Ikarras!" Viserys cried exuberantly. Aegon nodded enthusiastically.

Next to them, Ser Edwar murmured, "Tarsol is flying very insecurely."

"Maybe he's been wounded!" Viserys suggested, looking at the great white beast with renewed interest. He had never seen a dragon with a battle wound.

"Shut up!" Rhaenyra snapped. She looked as if she might slap him, so Viserys stepped aside, prudently. She lost any interest in him, though, her eyes following intently the unsteady dragon. Slowly, Viserys realized that Tarsol might fall down on them and crush them under his weight.

"Everyone in!" Rhaenyra ordered and no one was slow to obey. The laughter and anticipation all around had died all of a sudden. "You too," she told her sons and they obediently stepped away.

"Come on," Aegon said. "Mother said…"

"She isn't looking at us," Viserys whispered back. Their mother stood with her back at them, no doubt convinced that she would be obeyed. "I want to see what's wrong with Tarsol."

"Come on!" his brother insisted. Viserys only huddled behind a marble column. Aegon shrugged and entered the castle, joining the hundreds of people who watched from every door and window.

Rhaenyra stood alone, very small in the enormous bailey, her chin lifted proudly. The world shook when the dragon fell from the sky in a storm of dust. An old tower couldn't take the pressure and crumbled. Everyone cried out as one.

Viserys shook his head to clear his view and saw his mother striding ahead, threading carefully away from the fire breath of the writhing dragon. "How on earth are we going to move him?" someone cried, aghast.

Rhaenyra stepped through the cloud. "Baelon!" she cried out and it was then that Viserys was finally aware of what his mother must have known all along: in this moment, his eldest brother might be lying crushed under the weight of his own dragon. He stepped forward.

"No!" someone cried from above. Ikarras was now circling down. Aemon immediately turned his eyes back to the bailey, looking for a safe place to land. "Viserys, step back!"

With a new shudder of the earth, the second dragon landed. Ser Edwar and a few of the more daring ladies came forward hesitantly. Viserys walked behind Lady Lannister, hoping that his mother and brother wouldn't see him.

But it seemed he was the last thing in their minds right now. Aemon dismounted with his usual ease but his companions were slower. Then they started lowering a limp body that had been secured with ropes. In the torchlight, Viserys saw the familiar shining of silvery-gold hair, spattered with red_. _The violet eyes, though, were closed. The breastplate had been removed and the boy could see that the chest was covered with caked blood, too, softened by a constant fresh flow.

"Get the maesters!" Rhaenyra snapped and leaned over the body they had left on the stones, a good deal away from the reach of the dragons'breath. Not a sigh, not a tear. Her hands pressed to her throat, as if she wanted to stifle a scream, she went to her knees, her eyes never moving from her son's closed ones. Very slowly, her hand went to his cheek.

Now that she was away from the dragons, her people started thronging once again, talking in low voices. Were they looking at a living man, or a dead one? Aemon knelt on his brother's other side, not daring to look his mother in the eye. Viserys came to them, not bothering to hide any more.

Baelon slowly raised his eyelids, recognized his mother, tried to smile. "Won," Viserys heard him murmur. It was the faintest intake of breath, a mere sigh.

"I know," Rhaenyra said. "You did well."

"He did," Aemon confirmed. "He and Tarsol took down Vhagar and Aemond on their own. They are both dead," he went on and reached for his brother's hand but it was so thorn and bleeding that he reconsidered and just sat there helplessly.

A ripple went through the crowd. Vhagar had been old, for sure, but she had been a legendary dragon, Queen Visenya's own mount. And a youngling as Tarsol had killed her? It was hard to believe.

"Now, that's a good start," Rhaenyra said. Her voice was steady, yet there was something strange about her eyes. Some… shine. Behind them, one of the dragons swished a tail and someone screamed when the door of a nearby building rattled.

"Maybe you'll kill Uncle Aegon next!" Viserys said enthusiastically and his mother looked at him as if she had forgotten that he was here. But then, she nodded.

"He's right," she told Baelon. "Now you should heed the maesters if you want to finish your great start."

Baelon looked as if he might have tried to smile – or wince in pain. Blood came rushing from the split in his skull, from his eyes, from his mouth, blood everywhere. Viserys jumped back, drenched in sweat all of a sudden. Rhaenyra screamed – a howl that had nothing human to it, a howl Viserys hadn't known that humans could even _make_, a howl that echoed all over the ruins of Harrenhall. The dragons howled back. Four maesters came running and two servants hoisted Baelon on a stretcher. Aemon stopped the last one in the line, a maester whose name Viserys didn't know.

"You take care of Tarsol," he said.

The round middle-aged man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the young prince. "My… my lord… " he stammered. "Surely you understand that your brother…"

"My brother has three other maesters to attend him," Aemon snapped. "You're going to the dragon now."

Rhaenyra who was walking beside the stretcher looked back. "Do what my son says," she called over her shoulder in a voice that brooked no argument.

Obviously terrified, the maester started inching toward the terrified beast, as dangerous in his agony as he was in his prime. The crowd started whispering. As young as he was, Viserys knew that they could never understand. How could Baelon ever recover fully if he lost Tarsol?

From the dragonpit that Rhaenyra had ordered to dig as soon as she had married Lord Strong, Syrax roared.

Viserys trudged behind the small procession. They were almost at the door when the servants suddenly lowered the stretcher to the ground. The maesters leaned over it, rose a moment later, shook their heads. Rhaenyra tore at her hair and screamed again.

Tarsol gave a mighty roar and started rising. The crowd scattered, screaming.

A flame came out of the white dragon's mouth and he fell back on his belly, panting. His head hit the stones, crushing them in pieces.

He died like the young knight who had ridden him.


	3. The Heart of a Dragon

_**Thanks to my reviewers, you are the ones who keep me going.**_

_**In the Shadow of the Throne**_

_The Heart of a Dragon_

They had gathered into Aegyl's chamber to discuss the situation in private. What the situation was, Viserys was not entirely sure but he knew it must be bad news. As of late, everyone was walking on eggshells, even Aemon's companion, the Dornish Captive, as she was widely known. Viserys knew her only smiling, cooing to her babe and in high spirits, yet now even she was morose. No one was telling the boy what was going on but it was clear that everyone was worried, from stable-boys to lords who convened here. And his mother had become more volatile and imperious than ever. Still, he and Aegon were considered too young to burden with such matters, so he did not even know whether there would be a next campaign. His lady mother wanted to – very much.

"I've never seen such a thing," Aegyl now said from his room. "That's why I've asked you all to come here. We have a problem, my lords. My lady mother seems intent upon doing her cause the most terrible damage she possibly can. We have to find a way to limit the consequences. Surely you've heard about the taxes she landed upon White Harbour?"

"I was there," Aemon said. "I got literally besieged by desperate citizens trying to appeal to me to talk to her." He added something unintelligible and then his voice rose again. "Lord Manderly even threw himself in front of Ikarras' paws. I barely managed to turn his head aside so it was only the hem of Manderly's attire that caught fire. They don't understand that even I can't make Mother listen to reason. And the discontent is already starting to brew. It won't be long before we start losing out own lords' support. We have to act soon because she's losing our allies, the trust of our commanders…"

"Her wits," Aegyl interrupted, and Aemon snorted.

"It isn't the time for jesting, Aegyl."

"You think I am jesting? I think she's gone mad – truly! After Baelon's death, she's truly losing it. Accusing our commanders of fear, demanding that lords should cut their household expenses by a bloody half to pay for the faster start of our campaign? How else should I explain it? It's either the curse of our blood or her time of the month – never stopping! And what do you propose, Aemon? I see no means of silencing her, short of bodily removing her from the room or stuffing a cloth in her mouth – and I imagine Syrax won't be too pleased with this!"

"Stop this conversation immediately!" Lord Arryn said impatiently and it seemed that they both yielded. "I am not here to criticize my niece but the truth is, she's headed for a bad direction and we should mend her course."

Through the closed door, Viserys heard a few people sighing exasperatedly.

"She wants her crown," Aemon finally said. "She wants all this to end. And now, she wants vengeance, as well."

"We all do," Aegyl admitted, his voice softer. "But the way it's going, we're less likely to have it with any passing day. And the thought of someone else having to avenge you and me at the end does not sound all that appealing."

"No, it doesn't…"

"I think Her Grace is scared," Ser Edwar interrupted. "She's scared that this might go on forever, that she'd lose one of you, too, and she doesn't act wisely, thus reaffirming the already existing belief that women are not fit to rule."

"A belief that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard did his best to spread widely," Aegyl murmured. "I say we finish him off first, and the rest of them will scatter."

"I am not sure about this." Ser Arryk's voice was strange. It suddenly occurred to Viserys that he hadn't seen Ser Arryk's twin, Ser Erryk, also of the Kingsguard, for quite a while. No one would talk about him. When Viserys asked, Ser Arryk would look downcast and start talking about other things. It suddenly occurred to the boy that Ser Erryk might have stayed with the Kingsguard… Aegon's Kingsguard. But no, that was impossible. Still, why did they have only Ser Arryk, Ser Marel, and Ser Gawane from his grandfather's Kingsguard here? His mother had appointed four other members but could it be that the others had decided it was their duty to stay with Aegon?

A heavy silence fell. Then, Aemon spoke again. "We are all in agreement, it seems. Something must be done. But what could it be? She is not listening to me these days, she obsesses over regrouping the army and… telling me that I need to get a better armour. As if there is something that is really indestructible! Maybe you could talk to her, my lord?" he asked. "She respects you."

"That might be so," the old Lord Arryn sighed. "But she is not listening to me much these days either." He paused. "I wish your father were still alive," he said. "Usually, he was able to get her see things his way."

"Well, he isn't," Aemon said. "We have to fix this on our own as soon as possible."

"Maybe if he were, we wouldn't be in this blasted situation right now," Aegyl murmured. "I mean, if he were alive, she wouldn't have even glanced at this damned Ser Criston direction…"

Suddenly, there was silence that Viserys did not understand. It was a very peculiar silence, once that accompanied the mentioning of the Lord Commander – but only sometimes.

"Aegyl, not another word! Do you ever think before you talk? I swear, sometimes I doubt it very heavily!"

"What in the seven hells is that? You're telling me you never heard the rumours? I name you a liar then."

"Stop that!" Lord Arryn finally exploded and by the sound of it, he parted them bodily. It was suddenly very quiet again and the lord huffed, "Brother against brother. Aegon will scream with joy if he hears what the two of you were about to do." He paused. "Now, Aegyl, listen to me and listen well! The last thing we need is you repeating this rumour. Whatever the truth is, the affair never took place. Do you hear me? It – never – took – place!"

By the silence that followed, Viserys could say that his brother had yielded, albeit grudgingly, to the man they all held in such high esteem.

The discussion went on in a more moderate tone, with different suggestions of how to make Rhaenyra listen to reason. "Maybe if we all talk to her together," Aegyl said, hesitantly. "Royal power is not absolute and His Grace taught her that. I know she knows it. She simply isn't herself now and we have to make her realize that she isn't gaining anything by such behavior."

Suddenly, a hand grasped Viserys' shoulder. He had been so focused on the conversation inside that he had not heard the footsteps approaching; now, when he felt the painful digging of rings in his skin, he knew, with horror and certainty, who it was.

"What are you doing, eavesdropping?" his mother snapped but she was so white that Viserys realized that she, too, must have heard. She took a deep breath and entered the room, her head held high, his eyes purple steel.

"Are we having a council now?" she asked evenly. "It seems that all of you had forgotten to alert me."

The men stood and bowed. Aemon looked her in the eye. "I called them, Lady Mother. We needed to talk. Your actions as of late are not what I would call wise or prudent, or fruitful and I wanted to discuss it with them before I approach you."

There was no trying to find excuse. Viserys who had slipped in the room behind his mother was awed by Aemon's courage. He would never risk facing their mother's wrath like this.

"I see," Rhaenyra said. "So… what is your verdict? That I go barefoot to Aegon and surrender in shame before I could destroy my cause completely?"

He flushed but did not yield. "No one never said such a thing, Lady Mother. We are trying to prevent just this from happening and when some of us try to talk to you about that, you pretend not to hear. You are undoing all we managed to achieve and I have no idea why! Let's see what happened to White Harbour: it fell."

"After a long and rather nonsensical defence!" Rhaenyra interrupted swiftly.

"And you ordered a heavy taxing that was more nonsensical than even their defence!" Aemon shot back. "If this taxing is really imposed, a third of the citizens there will die! Let me ask you this, Your Grace: who do you intend of ruling over, the waste? But no, against every common sense you're burdening towns and castles over their limits and thus you're supporting their resistance – if they are going to die, let it be in a cause, at least. You're making enemies faster than the dragons can burn them and I do not understand why!"

Her eyes blazed. "Oh but you do. Don't tell me that you don't because you do!" Her voice rose to a shout. "And do not throw White Harbour to my face. Had it not been for House Manderly support in front of the Starks, all of this might have ended months ago."

Her eyes were still purple fires but now they were brimmed by the mist of tears. "Lord Manderly aided Aegon in his treachery. Cole is from there, as you well know. He would not have dared defy me without the support of the Starks which could only come through the Manderlys. If not for their loyalty, I would never have had my right disputed. They robbed me of my crown; they robbed me of my son. And yet you wonder why I would place heavy taxes upon them? Manderly should be beyond pleased that he has something left, including his head!"

The men were listening – unwillingly, maybe, because that was not what they wanted to hear but intently, nonetheless. Surprisingly but it was Aegyl who made the first step: he crossed to his mother and looked her more softly. "Lady Mother, I do understand," he said. "We all feel this anger as we should. All we are saying is that we cannot always act upon this anger. You have the courage and will a ruler need. Now you must show the self-restraint.'

She was silent, not admitting defeat, her chin still lifted proudly. The tears were still there, though, and she suddenly looked smaller, more fragile. She knew she had made mistakes. Aegyl made a step back and bowed to her very deeply and formally, a subject to his sovereign. Aemon followed, as did all of the others.

After a while, Rhaenyra asked, "Did I lose us too much?"

Lord Arryn shook his head and a smile lit his face up. "No," he said. "Not too much, lass. You might have placed us in a tight spot right now… but we are going to win this war."


	4. Games of Blood

**Thanks for your reviews, you keep me going.**

_Sorry for not updating for so long. I've been on holiday… and in a few days, I'm off to another one, shorter this time._

**In the Shadow of the Throne**

_Games of Blood_

Thunder shook the great hall and the flames in the fireplace shot up, swirled together, swept by the dance of fury. The crowd gasped. A few handmaids hurried over with buckets of water should need arise but Aegon waved them away. "One cannot hold the dragons with water," he said and his mother smiled as she made her way to the door.

"Lady Mother," Viserys called out, hurrying to catch up with her. "May I come?"

"Yes, Lady Mother," Aegon agreed. "May we join you?"

Rhaenyra did not look back. "Keep the children inside," she ordered to no one specifically. "Just because the fool on the blue dragon thinks he can defeat an entire army that also has dragons, that still doesn't mean the princes should be exposed to dragons in fight."

Viserys exchanged a look with Aegon. It did not escape their notice that no one else looked eager to be exposed to dragons in fight – in fact, the Queen's attendants did her best to stay out of her way, lest she decided she needed companions. But Lady Serise was already coming toward them, so they had no choice but look from the window while their mother probably watched the fight from the highest tower in Dragonstone.

The earth rumbled as the dragon in black and gold suddenly plummeted and stomped his leg on the ground. Then, he suddenly shot up, hitting his green-white opponent from beneath and breathing a column of fire. The other dragon shrieked and thrashed about, missing the enemy's head by inches. The black-golden one flew some distance away and then suddenly turned and headed right back, bumping into the other one's side. Viserys screamed, for it was surely a death sentence, and for a moment he could swear he could hear the rider's uproarious laughter before he avoided death once again.

Now, it was just three of their dragons against five of Aegon's. Even with his child's mind, Viserys could see that things were not looking good. With sudden insight, he thought that this might be the reason why his mother watched the fight alone – she wouldn't want anyone to see her anxiety.

"What happened?" a woman asked. Everything had happened so fast that not everyone knew of the two dragons that had suddenly been noticed flying for Dragonstone, chased by five others. When they could flee no longer, they had turned and given a fight. Viserys had yet to know who the second dragon, the red one, belonged to. She was young – it had to be a she, for the dragon was smaller and somewhat slender, or as slender as a dragon could be – but its agility and smart movements showed that it was no hatchling – and very well-trained. He was sure he had seen her in King's Landing but he couldn't say whom she belonged to.

Now, three of the enemy dragons surrounded her. Viserys closed his eyes, not wanting to see her fall but when he opened them, the battle was still going on.

"They don't want to take her down," Aegon murmured, stunned. "They want to… capture her, I think."

The dragon in gold and black roared and launched another attack that left him bleeding. Viserys and Aegon both screamed.

The sky disappeared under the curtain of a few other pair of wings. A chorus of roars made Dragonstone shudder and then, suddenly, Aegyl was there, mounting his Arelis, with a formation of three other dragons backing him up. They had not been expected to return sooner than the morrow, having left on some urgent errands that the boys were not allowed to know what they were… Eavesdropping hadn't helped either.

Sharp cries arose. Now their people had the edge of it, with two more dragons that could turn the tide.

"Look!" Aegon cried out. "They are running away, the cowards. They were not so reluctant to fight when _they_ outnumbered _us_."

Viserys barely heard him. He was staring entranced at the battle between dragons and riders. He had heard that a dragon would never run away from a fight and it was true, all of it. He could hear the roars of indignation, see the resistance of the great beasts thorn between their loyalty to their masters and their instinct to stay and fight, tear the enemy, taste his blood.

Their people charged and Aegon's met the attack. Hot blood started pouring like rain and the smallfolk started screaming and scrambling for cover from the torrent that was washing over them and sinking in the earth. Dragonstone shook once again, the earth groaned and a big part of the seaside rock crumbled to ruins that plummeted in the waves. The swell was so great that a nearby ship sank immediately.

So huge were the dragons that even when they were so high above, Viserys could still make out clearly their jaws, the huge claws gripping each other's flanks.

And then, it was all bright and clear again. Aegon's dragons flew away, shrieking with fury, and their own flew back to the ancient fortress. The black and gold one flew forward, carrying his reckless rider.

Rhaenyra came into the courtyard – Viserys had been right, she had been watching from the tower – and coolly nodded to the newcomer who ceremoniously bowed to her. Then, he grinned and swept her in his arms to kiss her passionately, to the barely contained disdain of her people who had stepped aside to give them some privacy – and give themselves some privacy from the dragons, no doubt. "Are you not happy that I am home, my love?" the man called out.

"I am overjoyed, husband," she said. Viserys could see that she was anything but.

His father looked at them and grinned once again. The boys grinned back.

Rhaenyra looked at the red dragon and raised an eyebrow. "What is she doing here?" she asked, looking straight at Aegyl who shrugged.

"How am I to know, Lady Mother?" he replied.

"If anyone know, it should be you," she snapped. "Help her down."

Quite reluctantly, he helped the rider down. For a dragon rider, she was quite clumsy – or maybe it was her belly that billowed the light armour she was wearing. Her auburn-golden hair made her face even paler and her eyes a deeper shade of purple. Viserys blinked. She shouldn't have been here at all, so why was she…

Bowing to his mother?

Rhaenyra's face betrayed nothing but Aegyl was seething with rage. He made a step towards her. "Why are you here?" he asked with barely contained anger.

Princess Rhaenys looked at him. She looked so exhausted that she might collapse any minute now. "I came to find you," she said.

He laughed derisively. "And what made you think I'd want you now? When I begged you to come with us, you stayed with your usurping brother. Did it not occur to you that I might have moved on?"

She didn't flinch. "I was the one who warned you what Aegon and my lady mother were planning," she reminded him. "And back then, I didn't know…"

"I imagine what it was that you didn't know," he spat. "I suppose I am the babe's father?" he asked with grim curiosity and his dark eyes bore into hers. The dying sunlight turned his hair into molten silver.

"I'd rather have the Stranger as my babe's father!" Rhaenys exploded. She looked as if she wanted to slap him.

"Well, I thought I was the Stranger, Rhaenys?" he asked. "That's what you kept telling me."

Finally, Rhaenyra lost the last vestige of her patience. "Everyone inside," she commanded. "There is no need to humour everyone."

On the way for the building, Viserys noticed Aegyl and Rhaenys exchanging looks like angry children who were on their way to reconciling.

* * *

_An hour later…_

"How did you come across her?" Rhaenyra asked and started rubbing her temples. Lately, she had been struggling with constant headaches.

Gaemon shrugged. "By chance," he said. "I think she had lost her way in the sky. Had she ever been here at Dragonstone at all?"

"Once or twice when she was a child," Rhaenyra answered, absent-mindedly. "I can't believe she managed to hide her condition for so long," she added but the truth was, her young half-sister had always been something of a loner, preferring dragons to people and wearing shapeless robes, to her mother's horror. This attire would have served her well.

"Do you think it's a lie?" her husband asked straight-forwardly. "Some trap of the Queen's?"

"She is no longer Queen," Rhaenyra snapped. "_I _am. I am the Queen of Westeros, not just the King's wife."

_Here it is_, Viserys thought. He had _known_ that his mother was angry with his father from the moment Gaemon Targaryen flew his dragon in the courtyard. It had been just a matter of time before she gave her anger free will.

Quite contrary to his habit, Aegon shoved his brother aside quite roughly and for a while, they struggled for the better position in front of their mother's bedchamber, all the while trying to make no noise at all.

Their father did not raise his voice. He only sighed. "Rhaenyra, there's no need to beat this into my skull. I know you are the Queen and I am only your husband. I know you're angry with me and – "

"Angry?" she demanded. "Why should I be angry with you? You have a life of your own and I have mine. I trust your travels in Essos were quite satisfactory? Did you see the Dothraki as you intended?"

Gaemon's steps echoed around his wife's chamber. "I came as soon as I could, Rhaenyra," he said. She huffed in derision.

"Your speed was not fast enough," she spat. "And I can't help but see that while you were in such a hurry to get back, you still got to play the brave knight to the poor lady in distress. Leading Aegon's traitors straight to me and our children, if I might add."

"But now we have Rhaenys," he said reasonably. "The fact that Aegon's own sister is denouncing him would serve our cause greatly."

"_Our_ cause?" Rhaenyra asked and laughed. "Since when do you have a cause other than adventuring? I have a cause, husband. For me and my sons. For justice. For my right."

He did not rise to the bait. "If Rhaenys gives Aegyl a son, people will be even more favourable toward you. Aegon has yet to sire a son. He only has the little girl while you have our boys and three grown sons. With a line of their own…"

Viserys exhaled sharply. His mother gave something like a sudden sob. "Two grown sons," she said. "Only two."

The silence crushed them like the sky falling, like a dragon's dead body shaking the earth for one last time.

"Rhaenyra," Gaemon said, his voice now soft. "I didn't know."

"That much is clear," she spat. "How could you know? You weren't here. I was left alone to struggle with Aegon and his bitch of a mother, with traitors, with keeping our sons safe, with my fear for Aemon and Aegyl… And Rhaenys' babe is as much a threat to us as it is to Aegon. Now he has no choice but fight us to the bitter end, for we are on our way on establishing a dynasty. And my sons are the first obstacles in his path."

Gaemon's steps stopped. "I know," he said softly. "Our boys will be probably safe but Aegyl and Aemon… Boys who are sons of the enemy are still only boys. But men who are sons of the enemy… they are enemies and rivals of equal worth. Their makings are something Aegon cannot forgive."

Viserys shuddered, for despite his father's careless ways, he felt in his words the eerie certainty of a prophecy.


	5. To Dance with a Queen

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you keep the story going._

**In the Shadow of the Throne**

_To Dance with a Queen_

The sun was at its highest, bathing the sea in its warm glow, yet let on the faintest hint of nearing coldness. Could it be the long hard winter maesters had recently predicted? Viserys had heard their people discussing this very possibility with great concern. Winter was the worst enemy they could face at war. Winter meant hampered movements, less victuals, less men-at-arms and more casualties before even reaching the enemy. Winter was as bad as a hot summer. The best seasons for was were spring and autumn. Everyone said so.

Next to Viserys, Aegon lifted his head from the stone slab of the roof where they were both sprawled and looked down and ahead. "Look," he said.

Viserys did and immediately saw what his brother meant: there was a small fleet slowly cutting the luminous waters to Dragonstone. What was even more astonishing was the sigil on the sail: the white watchtower with the bright flame crowning it. The boys had seen it hundreds of times carried in front of the King's Hand. _We Light the Way_, House Hightower words were. "Your way to wealth," Gaemon Targaryen was never slow to add sarcastically.

"Is this the Hand?" Viserys asked, stunned. "Aegon, is this the Queen?"

"Bad queen," the little girl splayed out between the two of them cried out.

Aegon and Viserys exchanged a look. As young as Alysse Waters was, she was quite right about this. Since she tended to repeat some of what the two of them said, Viserys could only wonder whom was she echoing now. Her mother? Or Aemon? "You little echo," he said softly, with a mix of irritation and fondness. Normally, Aemon's companion and her child were given wide berth by the lords and ladies on Rhaenyra's side and Viserys knew them only by occasional meetings in Aemon's chambers or the castle but since there were no other children of noble birth in Dragonstone, it was only natural for the two boys to let the girl lag behind – she was the only one who was, well, like them, although the difference between her four namedays and their seven and nine, respectively, was quite big.

"I am not an echo," Alysse said, angrily, jumped up, and stomped her little foot on the ground. Her indigo eyes flashed, the curtain of her dark hair, for she had long ago removed the offending bows, flew to one side. "_You_ are an echo!"

"I don't think it's the Hand," Aegon said. "He doesn't command the Hightower fleet."

"It isn't," Alysse confirmed. "It is Lord Hightower," she went on. "My father and the Queen were expecting him…"

The two boys looked at each other, stunned by the realization that all this time their little echo could have been a wonderful source of information. Since she was so young, adults rarely guarded their words around her, unaware that she was quite smart, for a girl, at least, and had quite the memory.

"Fine," Aegon finally said and tugged at her leg to make her lay back between the two of them. "Now, tell me what else do they speak about in your father's chambers?"

* * *

Lord Mychel Hightower was a dignified man. Yes, that was the word. Dignified. Once a formidable knight, he still retained some of his strength despite his grey hair and stooped shoulders. His eyes were wide and clear, his cloak gleaming despite the fact that he had not changed it since his arrival – he had come directly from the ship.

He entered the hall slowly, deliberately. His mind was not exactly at ease but he knew this was what he needed to do. If he was to preserve the dignity and prestige of his House – as well as his rule over it – he needed to acknowledge the crown that Rhaenyra Targaryen had placed over her silver haughty head.

It was a sad day indeed for Westeros when the good King Viserys' son, and a Hightower by blood, should be supplanted by a woman. But Aegon and Alicent had proved unreliable monarchs – and Otto was worse than both of them combined.

Once Mychel Hightower reached the dais, he knelt before Rhaenyra. To his surprise, she bade him rise immediately – had she finally seen reason? But no, by the burning rage in her eyes he could say that she had understood nothing, forgiven nothing. All she could see was that he had opposed her supposed right and he had come now driven not by a sudden change in his convictions but his own need – as if there was other reason a man would ever act upon!

He had just started to speak when a familiar male voice cut him off, saying, "Ah, but we are well aware of your current… predicaments, Lord Hightower."

Mychel stiffened and watched apprehensively as Aemon Targaryen sauntered through the hall to bow deeply in front of his mother's throne.

His presence here was no surprise at all but Mychel Hightower had been hoping that he was otherwise occupied. The Prince had used his influence with his grandfather to undermine House Hightower's positions. Aemon and Mychel had been commanding the opposing forces in a battle that had been fought only two months ago. And the Prince's animosity now had a personal edge, for it was well-known that Lord Hightower had devised the plan that had separated Aemon and his brother Baelon, leaving Baelon's dragon weary and wounded for the final clash with Vhagar. But he had no choice. As he started to speak again, he almost faltered at seeing that Aemon took a reverent step behind the throne. Mychel had expected of him to stand at his mother's side. He did not know whether to feel relieved or alerted that he would have to deal with Rhaenyra and not Aemon. Rhaenyra was proud and stubborn, she would not listen to reason but well, Mychel Hightower always dealt with men better than petticoats. Aemon, on the other side, was a man but he was one that liked Hightowers even less than his mother did…

"My lady," Mychel started, not quite bringing himself to call her "my Queen". "Your Grace," he started again and launched into his prepared plea, that she should help his House keep the prestige and righteous ruling of Oldtown that the Hightowers had been known for since before the War of the Conquest.

"I thought you relied on your kin for this," Rhaenyra said coldly. She looked aged and troubled, he now saw. Perhaps she was human, after all. Or she was simply being a woman. Again, his entire being rebelled against having to acknowledge as the true sovereign of the Seven Kingdoms a woman who would be unclean every month and with child every year… although the last one would stop being a concern very soon.

"I did, Your Grace," he said. "I believe in family. I had no choice. But it seemed that my choice was… wrong."

The words choked him but he went on. "My brother seems intent to ruin the good name of our House. To grasp Oldtown from my hands by a royal decree. Worse, he has lost his wits. They are now… murdering maesters, defiling the honour of the Citadel."

Rhaenyra wasn't the only one taken by surprise; so was Aemon. "What?" he exclaimed and turned to stare at their new ally. "Are you sure of this, my lord of Oldtown?"

"Quite sure, Your Grace. Grand maester Gerardys was fed to King Aegon's dragon."

The surprise was so thorough that no one bothered to correct him that Aegon was no King. Aemon shook his head, disbelieving; Rhaenyra looked as if she were about to be sick. All around the hall, there were whispers of horrified fascination; with desperate irony, the Lord of Oldtown realized that now, there was no going back, for him, as well as all of them. Being devoured by a dragon was not a perspective one cherished and now no man could be sure that it wouldn't be his fate if he deflected to Aegon's side.

With a newfound confidence, he went on with his prepared plea for help. Fortunately for him, he had no idea of the storm that had raged into Rhaenyra's chambers late into the night – she had been adamant that she'd accept nothing less than full acknowledgment of her right before she lifted a finger to help him; Gaemon, Aegyl and Aemon had argued with her, trying to make her see reason. "I want revenge no less than you do!" Aegyl had finally shouted. "But I'd rather have it on Aegon and this bitch mother of his. And you're ensuring that we'll never get this!" At this, she had slapped him. He had accepted it stoically but when she had reared back to strike him again, he had held her hands and shaken her violently.

"Stop it!" Gaemon had exclaimed. "Rhaenyra, you've become so bitter that I do not know you any more. We are responsible for the living ones, not the dead. Baelon will have to wait." At this, she had suddenly melted against Aegyl.

These were the things that their allies – both old and new ones – should never know. Because while a king might be forgiven a momentarily lapse because of feelings, a queen would never be.

* * *

_Three days later…_

"I wish I could come, too," Aemon said. In the early morning they should be shivering slightly but the dragons' breath was so hot that they were tempted to strip to their smallclothes.

Aegyl looked up from where he was busying himself with Arelis' harness. "Next time," he said and grinned. "It looks like we'll have plenty of occasions to go dancing together… thank the Seven that you dance better on Ikkarus than your feet," he jested. As he expected, Aemon laughed. In truth, he didn't mind staying at Dragonstone so very much. He did want to take part in the battle that was promising to be fought at Oldtown but he wasn't too eager for the negotiations that would inevitably follow. Lord Hightower did want to become related to Rhaenyra's family and there was only one way. Sure, Aemon had never imagined that he'd be able to wed his Lyanor but he wasn't in a hurry to take a lawful wife, either.

"Let's go," he said, gripped his brother's hand for a moment and then stepped aside, so Aegyl could let Arelis out of his cell.

In the courtyard, everyone waited. Aegyl nodded at Gaemon with a slight smile, grinned at the boys, knelt in front of his mother for her blessing and felt the tremor of her fingers. Each time she sent them to fight, her hands seemed to shake worse. At rising, Aegyl stealthily looked at her fingers. They were blue and swollen from twisting her rings.

He went to Rhaenys. Alaena slept in her arms peacefully. She was barely three months old. He drew a finger along her rosy cheek and then lifted it to Rhaenys' pale face. She was trying to reign her fear in but her eyes were huge and dark, her face gaunt and distraught. He touched her cheek, her lips, the outline of her nose. Then, he placed his hand on her still flat belly. "I'll be back before you start to show," he promised. "I swear it."

She nodded silently, too scared to speak. Her nightmares had kept both of them awake all night long.

"Take care," she managed.

"Will do," he promised.

He went to Arelis and turned back one last time. This time, Rhaenys managed to smile. He smiled, too.

He had seen twenty one name days and she had yet to see her twentieth.


End file.
